


The Principle of Observation

by mus



Category: Kingdoms of Amalur
Genre: (duh), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Casual Sex, Character Death, Emotional Baggage, Game retelling, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, Loss of Identity, Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Spoilers, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2018-10-06 07:32:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10329356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mus/pseuds/mus
Summary: The firsts few steps were the hardest, but he found the rhythm soon enough.If only everything else had also been that easy.





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Story follows the canon for the most part (until main quest end), but goes into AU territory in places. Starts out gen, gets shippy later on. I recommend keeping an eye on the tags since I may add or change things as I write further - there's some things I haven't completely decided on yet. Updates will likely come slowly.  
> And just a quick note that a lot of dialogue is taken from the game and used as is, so obviously those bits aren't my writing.

The first thing he ( _He?_ That felt somehow familiar, though there was a layer of aversion in that feeling.) noticed was the buzzing; it was what woke him up, though he was only barely conscious then, not making any sense of what his senses were telling him. It all felt so strange, and it was pooling in all at once, overwhelming him.

_Focus. Try to process one thing at a time._

The second thing he gathered from the cacophony of stimuli was the weight something mostly solid surrounding him. He tried to move but couldn't muster the strength to make the mass budge. He opened his eyes, but couldn't make any sense of the foggy sight. Was it dark in here? It didn't seem like there were any strong light sources, but he could have been wrong.

He took in sharp breath, trying to force himself to remain calm. It was then when his nose apparently decided to sort itself out, and the stench surrounding him became all too clear.

The smell had him gagging. He tried wriggling out of his entrapment again, and eventually managed to free one arm. He raised his hand to cover his nose only to realise that it smelled just about as disgusting as everything else. Or maybe he was the source of the smell. Hell if he knew.

He decided to focus on just keeping calm for now, to give his mind and body a moment to adjust. And, slowly but surely, his vision did clear up.

When he realized what it was he saw around him he wasn't so sure it was a good thing.

He mustered the strength to crawl out of the corpse pile, tripping over his own limbs on his way, half rolled, half slid down the side of the dump and plopped on his butt onto the cold stone floor in the most undignified manner. Not that that was the primary concern on his mind at the time.

Now that he was free from that stinking hole he took a moment to take a proper look at his surroundings. It was some sort of cave, filled with piles of corpses in various stages of decomposition. It was dark, like he had guessed earlier; there were only a few torches here and there, and from somewhere, the slightest eerie green glow made it's way into this particular cavern.

He looked at himself. Well, the parts that he could see. His body seemed well enough; he couldn't notice any injuries or such, aside his aching rear.

What had him pause for a moment was the realization that he couldn't recall anything about himself. Who was he. What was he. Something at the back of his head kept subtly tugging at his thoughts but the harder he tried to focus, the further it slipped from him. Even in the dim light he could see he had rather pale, greyish skin, and a toned form. He brought his hands to his face and felt his features, trying to visualize the shapes under his fingers. The shape of his lips and jaw, his cheekbones, his brows, the tip of his nose and the slight bump on the bridge of it. Reaching for his scalp his fingers got tangled with long hair. He took a strand ad moved it to front of his face. _White._ He had white hair. Brushing it out of his face he felt his ears. The auricles were long and pointed.

Something told him that all this information should signify something to him, but he could not figure out what exactly it was. A wave of anxiety washed over him. He had to be _someone,_ right? But what could he do when he didn't remember?

He looked at the clothes he was wearing. They offered very little information for him; the rags were similar to the ones he could see on some of the bodies around him. What was his connection to these dead people? Why had he ended up here with them, if he was alive?

He thought about finding corpses that were still in relatively decent shape, so he could compare them to himself to perhaps find a connection or explanation, but decided against it. Better just get out of here. Whatever this graveyard-waste dump was, it didn't seem like a good place to stay.

He tried getting up. His legs felt so weak he was about to topple over before he could even stand straight, but he persisted. Everything else had taken a moment to start working properly, he just had to take it slow and push through this.

The firsts few steps were the hardest, but he found the rhythm soon enough. It was apparent that there was only one way to go, unless he'd like to try jumping off the ledge. And not far from where he woke up, he noticed a table with some items on it by a doorway. Getting closer, he observed every detail, hoping they'd tell offer him anything to shed light on his situation.

There was a note of some kind on the table. He picked it up and glanced over the scribbles on it.

He knew these symbols. These were words, and for once, he remembered something. He did take a short while to read the text, but he could do it. That alone was a relief.

  

> _Experiment Disposal_
> 
> _Secrecy is still important in our work, requiring specialized disposal of our unfortunate failures. Piling remains have become a concern in the lower caverns, so an incinerator has been added to deal with the wastes._
> 
> _This should make disposal work slightly less horrible, although you should avoid drinking water from downstream of the ash dumps. Hardly a fitting rest for the poor things, but if it's any consolation, these weren't their original bodies in the first place._
> 
> _—Fomorous Hugues_

 

Wait, what?

A new sense of dread crept in as he re-read the note to be sure he got it right. Failure disposal? Not their original bodies? Were these 'they' the piles still there behind him, the piles he crawled out of? Was he part of these 'unfortunate failures', whatever that meant?

"What the hell is this place..."

Hearing himself speak out loud snapped him out of his thoughts for a moment. So that was what he sounded like. His throat felt weird, like out of practise. Would make sense, since everything else had been like that too. But in the light of this new information he wasn't sure how to feel about it.

He looked at the small wooden door. From what he could see it was the only way forward. There was a rusty sword stabbed on it, the blade poking through the ribs of a corpse that had already turned to nothing but bones. He wasn't sure if he really knew how to use a sword, properly that is, but he figured that in any case it would be better than nothing, should he run into trouble.

He dropped the note back to the table, and stepped over to grab the sword. Pushing the flimsy door open he made his way further into the cave.

He didn't make it far before he heard the screams.


	2. Encel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _what is consistent chapter length_
> 
> Anyway. Some things   
> 1) Assuming I succesfully finish writing this, the fic will be long as hell. My initial estimate based on outlined chapters at the time was 200k+ ~~and I'm too scared to crunch the numbers into a calculator again.~~ I did it again and all I have to comment on that is RIP me
> 
> 2) Illustrations will come, I already have some planned for specific scenes and the first one isn't too far away. Plan is one or two per a few chapters, we'll see how it ends up going.
> 
> 3) My initial intent was to write so that regardless of whether the reader was familiar with the game or not, they'd be able to follow the story; hopefully it isn't too boring(?) for anyone like me who's replayed the whole thing several times (oops).
> 
> aaaand  
> 4) If anyone feels like it, pointing out grammar screw ups, typos, and the like is welcomed along with general comments/feedback, esp since English isn't my native language.

He crept in closer, holding his sword tightly. The tunnel widened, and there was an opening to a large cavern. The path didn't go that way, though; cutting instead to yet another ledge and a high fall. The tunnel did continue to his right, but what caught his attention right now was the sight straight ahead of him.

On a wooden walkway emerging from a stone structure, well out of his reach, there was a group of people much shorter than him running away from someone. The pursuer was closer to his size, and clad in dark armour with red stones embedded all over. They easily caught the others in a few long strides, cutting down the one, then another, with a single forceful swing of their red sword. The remaining one had some headway, but he didn't expect them to get far before meeting their end as well.

_ "Scatter, Children of Dust! Scatter before the might of the Tuatha!" _

So far he was only getting more confused and concerned about what was going on in this place. He watched as the attacker went after the one that had run away, eventually disappearing out of sight.

_ It's no use staying in here,  _ he thought, backing from the cliff and continuing forward in the tunnel.

As the path took a sharp turn he noticed two creatures ahead, scavengers feeding at their finding he guessed as he observed them. They were ugly creatures with their reddish, ill looking skin showing through the patchy fur.

As he carefully approached them, the rat closer to him turned around, sniffing the air. It saw him, and lunged.

He brought his sword quickly in front of him, hitting at the animal as it tried to sink its teeth into him. He nicked at its shoulder, not causing any serious damage. The rat squealed but didn't back off, and the noise drew the other one's attention.

He pulled the sword back, and slashed the rat to its head as hard as he could before the animal managed to strike again. Even with the dull edge the blade did a great deal of damage, smashing into the animal's skull and killing it instantly.

Before he could draw the weapon back, the second rat attacked and bit his right leg.

He yelped in pain. He tugged at the weapon, but it was buried just deep enough into the dead rat's skull not to come off so easily. In a fit of panic, he resorted to punching the attacking animal in the head, not really expecting to do damage, but hoping he would at least stun or startle the creature somewhat. The rat did back away, but only a bit.

He knew he could not beat animal bare handed. Quickly securing a better grip by using both his hands, he now managed to pull the sword out of the carcass with relative ease. The living rat, however, was already attacking him again.

The creature's teeth sunk into his right forearm.

While the bite to his leg had hurt, in the end it was little more than a surface wound. But this time the rat managed to sink its teeth deeper into his flesh, tearing into muscle, and more concerningly, dangerously close to larger veins.

He kicked the animal into its stomach, then raised the sword to poke at its side — it was an awkward attempt, and made him realize that his injured right arm was his dominant one. With luck rather than skill he managed to cut into the flank well enough to get the animal backing off again.

As the rat let go he realised just how badly his arm was bleeding, with blood oozing from the wound and staining the raggy sleeve with red. He didn't know just how big of a problem it was, just hoped that he wasn't going to end up dealing with severe blood loss in the immediate future.

With a grimace he grasped the handle with both his hands again. He couldn't muster that much strength to the grip from his right, but at least he could try to maneuver the sword better.  _ Just kill the thing. Worry about the injury later.  _ Not wanting to give the rat another chance to attack first, he lunged with the weapon pointed forward.

The animal took a sidestep, but didn't dodge enough. The blade sunk into its shoulder, and as it tried to retreat again, it made its situation worse by writhing in attempt to shake the attacker off.

Said attacker was all the more determined to twist the weapon and keep boring it into the animal's flesh. This way he could keep the rat at an arm's length and kill it. Maybe it wasn't particularly quick or effective, but it was working. The rat was already bleeding worse than him, and as it screamed and squirmed the wound only widened.

He pushed, and with a nudge the blade sunk a bit deeper. The creature let out an odd, gurgling sound and started trashing more violently, but soon lumped to the ground, breathing with obvious difficulty.

Realizing he had managed to poke into a lung, he withdrew. The rat  tried to get up still, but stumbled immediately. Unable to breath properly and weak from blood loss, it was as good as dead. 

He wasn't particularly enthusiastic about the idea of leaving the animal to suffer, but he had more pressing concerns with his own situation. He continued further into the tunnel, hoping that he might find something to help with the situation. This route had to lead somewhere.

The path continued in a narrow uphill slope, and soon he was met with that greed glow he had noticed in the cavern where he woke up. Only this time it was a lot stronger. As the tunnel curved, he saw the source of the light — a sizeable, pillar-like object with crafted patterns on it. He looked forward and saw that there were more of them further in the tunnel.

He didn't get the chance to ponder too deeply what these things were, as a shout echoed from ahead:

"Help! Anybody!"

He took off into a sprint, and going up the slope he arrived at a ledge that opened into a large, dimly lit space, more room than a cave. On the opposite side he saw someone covering behind a pile of wooden boxes and crates. The person was looking about, and spotting him, cried out again.

"You, up there! Please, help me!  _ Please _ !"

He then noticed the two darkly claw figures in the middle of the room. Judging by their armour, they were onside with those attacker from before.

He jumped. Whatever was going on, he didn't intend to let these two gut the one who had called for him. And the shorter one felt like a more likely candidate for a way to get some answers than these aggressors.

He landed and rolled, wincing as his injuries ached with each movement. One of the two noticed him, rambling off something about mortal scum, but he focused on the one right in front of him, back to his direction, apparently focused on the person hiding behind the pile. He wasn't going to repeat the errors he made with the rats, not with an enemy that actually knew how to fight.

The rusty blade cut into their neck just above the collar of the armour, before they had the chance to turn around and face this new opponent.

He drew back to get some space between himself and the enemy. He was unsure whether he had injured this one lethally, but the other was quickly approaching from the side, demanding his attention.

_ Focus. Focus! _

Taking the offensive again, he rushed forward, pushing the pain aside and slashing at the attacker before they could attack him.

What surprised him was that his opponent didn't really make an effort to evade or block the attack, instead just taking it and continuing as if it was a minor inconvenience. Their armour protected them, yes, but the blade nicked at their weapon hand more than lightly.

He realigned the blade and cut again, aiming for the neck.

The attacker raised their sword to a block this time, brushing the offending blade aside with apparent ease. Pushing forward, they forced him on the defensive.

He took back a step, then another as the attacker relentlessly tried to cut him down. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other one was slouching on the ground, but still moving. He didn't get the chance to estimate how badly they were hurt, though, as a red blade came fast toward his face from the front. He managed to lift his own weapon in time to block the strike, but his injured arm protested at the sudden strain.

He winced.

He tried to back off, but the attacker was relentless. They went his his legs, this time managing to scrape before he could get away.

He had to turn the situation around, and quick, but how? He couldn't keep dodging forever.

His opponent raised their blade, triumphant look on their face.

He lunged.

It was a knee-jerk reaction. He sprang right beside his enemy, rolled and ended up behind them. He might have hit them to the leg in the process, he wasn't completely sure. His sword had made contact with something, but it could have been the floor just as well.

Be it luck or good timing, his move surprised the aggressor. He had just a second to attack before they could turn.

He used that to strike where their armour had a gap at the back of the knee joint.

They yelled in pain, more angry than anything, but fell to their knees, unable to stand up. Even then, they tried to swing their sword at him, but they could not turn to a proper angle quick enough to keep up with him.

He rushed behind his enemy again, and then hacked at their neck with all the force he could muster with his injured arm.

He heard a nasty crack as the blade made contact with the spine, and then his enemy fell down on their face with a thud.

As his opponent lay down dead, he took a better look at the other one. They had gotten back on their feet, and were painstakingly heading towards him.

He discarded his rusty sword and took the red crystal blade from the now dead warrior. The material and make might have been odd, but apparently it got the job done fine. Given the situation, he was going to pick the best weapon available — and honestly, almost anything would have been a better option than his initial blade.

The remaining aggressor rushed towards him. Though they were apparently determined to keep fighting, their moves were sloppy and slow.

He prepared for the impact, this time intentionally letting his opponent to strike first. With their condition, he just needed some patience to wait for a opportune moment to finish this.

_ Just fend off the attacks, wait for an opening, and strike. _

The red swords collided, edges biting into each other.

He felt a surge of energy in that moment, like a static building up at a rapid rate, tingling at his fingers.

And then, to his surprise, both the blades shattered.

He was quick to turn away and squeeze his eyes shut as the fractured crystal scattered all over. Few of the shards nicked at him nonetheless, cutting small wounds into his hands and the side of his face.

His opponent was less fortunate. While he didn't see them, he heard the sudden yelp. He turned to look, immediately noticing the shard poking from the aggressor's eye.

He saw his chance, with the enemy being half-blind and temporarily stunned from the pain and surprise. He rushed forward to stab the remains of the blade he had held into their throat. The shattered sword was useless for proper battle, but the remains of the crystal blade were sharp enough to penetrate skin with ease.

They tried to retreat, then dropped their broken blade and grabbed him by his wrists, trying to pry him away by force. He twisted the weapon around in the wound, trying to end this faster like with the rat. Half loose shards broke off, clinging to the flesh of his opponent even as they managed to push him back somewhat.

It was for only a moment, though. He could feel their grip weakening by the moment, and soon they stumbled forward, struggling to keep their balance. The new wounds combined with the earlier blow had done their job.

He pulled back, and the aggressor fell over to the ground before they could before they could regain steadier footing. They tried to get back still, but didn't have the strength to fight as they were pressed to the floor, and the broken blade found its way to their neck again.

It was soon over.

Breathing heavily, he let the ruined weapon fall from his grip.

So much for getting help with his wounds. Luckily the newest ones weren't as bad as the rat bites.

He got up and stepped back from the corpse. He couldn't really put his finger on it, but the fight had given him an itch. There was a persistent feeling of something gnawing at the back of his mind. He sighed; he could only hope it would come to him eventually.

He turned to look at the person who had called for help. They seemed to be unharmed, at least. Before he had the chance to say a word, they came rushing towards him, arms gesturing wildly as he spoke:

"Oh thank you! Thank you! Why, if you hadn't come along..."

They looked him in the face, and their expression changed suddenly. He recognized disbelief and confusion, then a spark of realization.

"Wait... I've seen you before... on the slab! You... you were dead!"

_ Dead? _

He opened his mouth to ask what the person was talking about, but the other continued still, their excitement palpable.

"It worked! By the Tome, it worked! You're alive!"

He had to interrupt before he would get even more confused. Just what was this person talking about? "Wait, what happened to me?"

That seemed to shake them back into the situation. Scratching their head they let out a sigh, their gaze falling to the ground.

"Well... you died. I don't know how or even where. But you body was remade in the Well of Souls and somehow... it worked! The Well restored your soul to your body and it worked! We must get you to Professor Hugues right away. He'll have questions for you!"

And there they were getting excited again. At least he had gotten some sort of answer out of them. One thing he recognized was the name Hugues. Was it the same person who had signed that note he had found? Trying to keep himself collected, he pushed further.

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea for me to do anything before I get my wounds treated. Can you explain to me what's going on in here? Who are these people? Or you? And who is Hugues?"

They seemed taken aback, but then noticed his arm.

"Oh dear...  think I do have potions that should help, just a moment." They searched through their pockets, eventually pulling out a small vial of liquid. "Here, drink this one."

He took to bottle, hesitating for a moment before opening it. He had no way of knowing if this would really help him, but then again, the situation he was in called for quick decisions. This stranger had been friendly so far; if he couldn't trust this one, his chances of making it out of here alive weren't exactly great.

He popped the cork open, and downed the whole thing on one go. The potion had a curious taste to it, and tingled at his throat as he swallowed. It wasn't terrible, but not exactly something he would have wanted to drink unless he needed to.

"There. It'll take a moment before it kicks in, so I will answer some of your questions while we wait. I am Encel; just one Gnome doing his share to further science. The Well of Souls is the life work of Professor Fomorous Hugues! He leads the research and experiments. Speaking of which, I must apologize. You showed no signs of life when we removed your new body from the Well's waters. We just put you in the furnace room with the others. We would have never done that if we knew!"

He gave Encel a weak smile. "At least you didn't burn me before I got the chance to wake up. Guess I had some luck there."

"Well, you're right about that. As for the attackers — you really don't know who they are?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Perhaps the process damaged your memory", Encel muttered, mostly to himself it seemed. "They are Tuatha Deohn, enemies of all the young races. We've never seen them this far inland, not even during the invasion! I don't know why they are here."

That didn't really tell much. But it gave him some consolation to know that he wasn't the only one confused here.

He noticed that his arm had almost stopped hurting, and the bite was itching now. He lifted the sleeve and found that the bleeding had stopped, and the skin was starting to close around the wound. He could tell where the original outline of it had been, since the new tissue was slightly discoloured and lighter than the rest of his skin. 

He realized there was something else he had wanted to ask before he had gotten sidetracked.

"If you didn't know anything about my death, I suppose you don't know who I was either? I don't recollect even my own name."

"No, I'm sorry." 

A faint sigh escaped his lips. Not knowing who he was might just be even more frustrating than not knowing anything about his surroundings or the people in there.

"Though", Encel said, "I did take up a habit of giving each cataloged body a nickname. Made the job more interesting, and less grim."

"Do you remember what you named me?" he asked, mentally berating himself for how desperate he was for any shamble of identity to cling to.

"I think so..." Encel fell quiet, mumbling to himself as he worked to recall the right name. "Yes, I remember. It was Neraon. Though I doubt it's even close to what you were called before you died."

_ Neraon _ . That didn't sound too bad.

"It'll do until I find out my original name, I suppose. Thanks. And for the potion too, my arm feels better. I think I'm good to go."

"The let's get going, there is no time to waste! The Tuatha seem to be coming in from the lower levels — if we hurry, we should be able to beat them to the top."

Neraon nodded. He went over to pick up his rusty blade from where he had left it, and followed Encel to the closed gateway at the side of the room.

"Let me get this door, and we can be on our way." Encel switched a small lever, half hidden out of sight behind the structures by the doorway. With a clang, the mechanism was activated and the path opened.

"Right this way... " Encel cleared his throat. "You go first."

Neraon had no objections. If there were Tuatha ahead, he was better suited to face them than Encel. And he needed Encel's help to get to Hugues.

They ran up the stairs of the hallway and arrived to another barred passage. 

"This is what they're after — our greatest invention, the Well of Souls. Imagine an end to war, an end to death!"

Encel sounded so excited about it, but Neraon felt uneasy. From ahead he could hear an odd sound, like some kind of hoarse, muffled wailing. His gut was twisting in anxious anticipation as the portcullis rose before him.

As they entered the room, Neraon was greeted by a sight he would not forget. A massive structure rose high in the large cavern, and within it, a green, glowing vortex of energy spiraled upward, its aura brushing against him, making him shiver. He felt drawn to it, but at the same time the energy felt almost overwhelming. As he got over the initial impact of it, he could feel subtle, repeating shifts in the flow. Almost like the Well had its own heartbeat.

This is what had brought him back to life?

His pondering was cut short as he noticed the two Tuatha on the higher level of the structure.

They were carrying objects he couldn't recognize. The things were covered in — or made of? — the same red crystals as most their equipment. They planted them on the support beams of the Well, and took off running.

An inkling of what those objects were managed to find its way to Neraon's mind just before they detonated.

The shock threw him off his feet and had the Well rumbling. Neraon felt an erratic burst in its aura as he stumbled up. He was soaked — why was the ground  here covered in water anyway?

"What just happened?" Encel cried out from his side.

_ I guess he didn't notice the two _ . "There were Tuatha up in there. They had some kind of explosives", Neraon explained.

"Oh... Oh no. They must be here for the Well. They are one of the main reasons we are doing this research, after all. This isn't good."

As they got moving again, Neraon took note of the many dead Gnomes they passed. Were the Tuatha going to kill everyone they got their hands on? Was this Well so important that they didn't intend leave behind no survivors, or was it just how they did things — killing everyone in their path?

On the far wall there was another closed gate. As Neraon pulled the lever, he took a glance at Encel. He was fidgeting, and clearly distraught. Not that it was particularly surprising.

Hopefully they'd both get out of here alive.

They continued on their way. This cavern was less refined again, more cave than a hallway, leading into another open space. Just before they got in there, rocks came falling from the ceiling of the cave before them.

Neraon halted, waiting and listening if there were any more about to fall off. They had avoided getting under these ones by luck, but they could not rely on that alone. "Must be the aftershocks of the explosion", he noted. "We need to be more careful."

Encel looked ahead, pointing at the wall opposite of them. Neraon spotted a weapon rack and some crates and wooden chests. "This is one of the store rooms. See if you can find anything useful! We'll then get back past the Well and find a way up that isn't hopefully full of those Tuatha."

The rumbles seemed to stop, so they went ahead to see if there was anything of use stored in the room. The rack wasn't much good. There were a couple of spears, but they were even worse condition than his sword. There was an old but a functional shield, though, which Neraon was thankful for. At least he had something to protect himself with. He then rummaged through the chests; the first one only had old greaves that chafed at his skin, but the second, filled with leather clothing and equipment, turned out to be a better haul. Many of the items were Gnome-sized, but he did find a pair of boots and pants that fit him.

At least he got something to replace the lower half of these wet, moth eaten rags with. Neraon half rolled, half tore the pants off his legs. Seeing how easily they came apart at the seams, he was surprised that they had held together this long. 

Beside him, Encel let out a surprised sound and turned around bashfully. Neraon mentally rolled his eyes. He doubted the Well had spat him out with clothes on; surely there wasn't much more to see that Encel wouldn't have already laid his eyes on at some point.

As he got the boots on, another pile of rock came crashing down by the tunnel they had entered the room from, startling him. Neraon snapped his head back to find the way to the Well blocked. He looked around, but couldn't see any other way out.

_ Crap. Don't tell me we're trapped in here. _

Encel looked like he was about to say something, but he then froze and stood completely still for a moment, frowning at something.

Neraon didn't think much of it. He was about to go inspect if there was some way through the pile of rubble blocking the way, when Encel spoke again.

"Wait... do you hear something?"

Neraon was about to ask what Encel meant, as he heard a faint noise he recognized immediately. It was the same sound the explosives from earlier had made just before going off.

The wall to the side came crumbling down with a loud boom, rocks and dust scattering around. Neraon saw two figures emerge from the rubble, apparently none too concerned about potential loose boulders that might still come down.

"More Tuatha!" Encel cried out, backing away from them.

Neraon grabbed his sword and shield, bracing himself for the fight. He may had been winning with luck before, but he didn't trust that it would last. He just had to figure this out on the go.

He approached them, his sword at a ready on his right and the shield on his left.

The first Tuatha raised their sword, trying to strike at his head, but Neraon lifted the shield in parry. At the same time he went for a low thrust, but the attack was cut short by the other Tuatha, who then came at him from his exposed right side.

He pulled the sword back just it time to block the blow, but now faced a problem with the two Tuatha having him almost surrounded. Acting on impulse, he lunged towards the one on his left, bashing his shield against them to throw them off balance, then ducking and diving behind them, then quickly turning around.

It was a stupid move, really. The other Tuatha managed to nick at his leg when he had turned his back — not badly, but still. He also realized that as much as the shield was useful, it was also on his way. It was just too clunky for the way he moved, or rather, wanted to move.

But now this one Tuatha was back to him.

They tried to turn around, but the rusty sword sunk into the gap of armour beneath the armpit. They opened their mouth in a gasp, face twisting in shock and anger.

Neraon noticed the one further back trying to sneak behind him from his left side. He kicked the injured one sharply to the side, pulling his sword out with the same motion. He twirled around to face the other one.

They managed to poke him at his shoulder before he got the shield on the way.

Using his momentum, Neraon hurled his blade toward his enemy. With their weapon knocked to the side with the shield, he hoped to land a good hit.

The Tuatha raised their weapon to parry, but Neraon changed his aim and went for the knee instead. He didn't manage to cut well — not with a blunt sword, awkward attack angle, and the poleyn covering the front of the joint — but judging by how the Tuatha shifted their footing to avoid putting weight on that leg, it had at least hurt.

Neraon didn't stop to ponder for long, instead pressing aggressively forward to give his opponent little chance to strike back. The Tuatha was stuck on the defensive, but gave no signs of any intention to give up as they struck aside one cut and lunge after another. Neraon knew he could not keep it up for long; the blade he was wielding was heavy and while he was fit, his arm was protesting at the intense strain.

The instant his attacks slowed the crystal sword quickly turned to offense.

Neraon raised his shield barely in time to prevent the blade from impaling his chest, only to find out that the old rusty thing was not in as good a condition that he has assumed. The red blade burrowed into a dent and pushed through, almost cutting at Neraon's arm.

It didn't cut deep, though. The tip had poked through, but the irregularly shaped blade did not penetrate further. Realizing that the Tuatha pulled back, only to find that the sword was stuck.

Neraon was not going to wonder his luck; he twisted his shield arm to the side, not caring for the ache the awkward motion caused. Neraon did not manage to unarm his opponent, but did successfully create an opening for his own blade. Taking the chance, he lunged.

The Tuatha saw the attack coming, and made one last effort to draw their weapon back.

It was then that the shield finally gave up. The straps snapped loose from the force of being pulled in the different directions, and the two combatants momentarily lost their balance as the shield and crystalline blade fell to the floor with a clatter.

Neraon was quicker to recover from the surprise, and finished the move that had been interrupted. The Tuatha tried to block with their arms, but Neraon had already reached their exposed neck. Still fighting back, they tried to land a punch, but Neraon dodged the attempt. Even while bleeding to death the Tuatha refused to surrender, trying to strike again and again before they finally collapsed, breathing heavily and coughing up blood until finally falling quiet.

Neraon was panting. Four. That was four down. How many more there was? He was not sure whether it was skill or pure chance that he had managed to beat these ones, and from what he knew, the place was crawling with Tuatha.

He squeezed his eyes close; it didn't matter. He would do whatever he could to make it out of this place, even if the odds seemed against him. He took a deep breath, trying to even calm down and even out his breathing. He had to keep calm. If he started panicking, he would surely die.

Neraon looked at the shield with the sword still stuck in it. Well, that was useless from here on. At least it had helped in this fight, even if by breaking down.

"You're going to need more than just that sword. That one had a bow, get it!"

Encel's words shaked Neraon back from his thoughts. He spun around on his heels, about to argue that either of the two Tuatha hadn't had a bow, but then he noticed Encel gesturing toward a third, dead one lying in the tunnel the attack had come from. By the looks of it, this one had gotten caught up in the explosion. Their armour had some considerable dents, and there was a sizeable, fresh wound on the side of their face.

Their misfortune.

Neraon picked up the bow from the ground. It had suffered some scrapes, but appeared to otherwise in good condition. It also didn't have that red crystal on it, which was a relief. Until he understood why those blade from earlier had broken like it did, he would avoid anything made of the same material.

Luckily, the quiver the Tuatha had had a decent supply of arrows still. Neraon took one and nocked it, trying the motion of drawing the arrow a couple of times to get the feel of it. This seemed to come to him more naturally; it made him wonder if a bow had been his weapon of choice in the past.

He took the quiver and slung it over his shoulder. Better think about his past later and just focus on the task at hand now. At least he now had a weapon that would allow him to fight from a distance. He hoped he would get his hands on some more protective clothing, or better yet, actual armour — one that wasn't covered in those strange red crystals — but right now he just had to manage. But, knew would be more successful at that if he tried to avoid direct physical contact altogether and surprise his enemies from range when he could.

He looked into the tunnel the Tuatha had come from. It had to lead somewhere, and with little choice of where to continue, it was the best option of directions. Neraon jogged ahead into the tunnel, Encel trailing right behind him.

The path took a sharp turn. This part of the tunnel was piled up with crates, but Neraon could see that there was more structures further ahead.

He heard the Tuatha before he could see them.

Staying mindful about remaining out of their sight, Neraon set the sword down as quietly as he could. He prepared an arrow, and took a glimpse at Encel. His companion had also realized the situation, and was staying further back. Neraon then snuck forward, trying to find a spot where he would remain hidden but where he could see forward well enough to aim and shoot.

When he spotted the Tuatha, he froze.

_ Archers. _

It they saw him, the situation would get tricky. There was two of them, and even if he got one of them out in one shot, one would remain to fire back. He had to be quick and precise.

Not taking his eyes off the two, Neraon slowly moved his feet into a better stance, raised his bow and sent an arrow flying.

The arrow jabbed the Tuatha into shoulder, earning a yelp of pain and surprise from the target. Neraon was already readying to fire again, but it was a race against time as the other Tuatha saw him — and he had a feeling that the injured one just might try and shoot as well.

As he aimed, he could see the Tuatha drawing their crystal decorated bow, arrow nocked and pointed towards him. Neraon fired, and immediately jumped aside to hide behind the crates. The approaching arrow hurled by him all too close, but he got away unscathed, for now. He was unsure whether or not he had hit the target.

But then a cry echoed from the cavern, followed by the sound of someone collapsing to the floor.

Neraon didn't waste time jumping back in position to finish the remaining Tuatha. He quickly noticed that they had been waiting for him to show up again, bow at the ready despite their injury and the arrow still poking from their shoulder. Neraon prepared to dodge again, but as he saw the arrow approaching, he realized that the shot would fall short.

The Tuatha did not get another chance to fire, as Neraon landed another shot, this time hitting the Tuatha to their neck, having them gurgle and gasp for air as they fell down.

Neraon went back to grab his sword, motioning for Encel to get moving. There was another gate, and behind it a passage that led to a larger cave.

From the other side of it, more Tuatha rushed to meet them.

Neraon simply dropped the sword and readied his bow. One of the two stumbled over as they received an arrow to their hip. Neraon wanted to yell from frustration; his aim was all over the place and he had been getting more lucky shots than anything else. At least he still had a moment to try shoot the other one before the Tuatha would get too close and he would have to switch back to the sword.

"There's another at the back — an archer!"

Encel's cry was Neraon's only warning. Just as he fired another arrow he tore his attention away from his target. He barely had the time to react, and despite being quick on his feet, the Tuatha's arrow scraped his side deeper than he would have cared for.

He only had to take in a quick glance to know that his own arrow had missed; the second Tuatha was close, and still standing. Neraon dashed for his sword, discarding the bow without much care as he hurried to meet the attacker that was about to come cut him down.

The Tuatha stared at him, took a trying step closer, and stumbled to the ground with a pained groan. The arrow poking from their chest snapped to pieces under their weight.

Neraon was not going to stop to ponder that one any further as the archer was still up and ready to shoot him. He sprang to motion, dodging another arrow before he ran for the attacker, sword raised. The Tuatha tried to shield themself with their bow, but the heavy blade broke the weapon and hacked to their arm.

Neraon pulled the sword back and swung again; it took a couple of attempts with his target not staying still, but he managed to cut them into the neck deep enough to fatally wound them.

He then turned to face the first one he had shot, not forgetting that that one was very much alive. The Tuatha was trying to get on their feet despite their wound. The Tuatha tried to hit him with their blade, but Neraon was faster. With his opponent unable to move much, he quickly finished the fight, dealing cut after cut until he landed a slash that might have decapitated the Tuatha had his blade been in better condition.

Breathing heavily, Neraon lowered his weapon. Three enemies lay dead, or dying, on the cave floor. Yet again luck had favoured him. He was really starting to wonder how long it would last.

He walked back to where he had dropped his bow, eyeing the Tuatha he had thought he had missed.

_ Must have pushed through the pain for a moment there _ , he thought.  _ You just refused to die immediately, didn't you? _

Then he noticed the weapons the Tuatha had been holding. A pair of short blades, in great condition, and made of ordinary metal instead of that crystal.

Neraon practically threw away his sword, grabbing the daggers for himself. His reach would be considerably shorter, but the advantages were too good to pass. Neraon tried the feel of the blades in motion — the lightness of them felt so much more natural than the weight of the large sword. And the edges were actually sharp! He would not have to rely on force in order to injure his enemies. A well aimed cut would do.

He saw the Tuatha had a weapon belt with sheaths for the blades, and took that for himself as well. It was a bit long for his unimposing figure, but Neraon did not particularly care about that sort of thing. Not right now, at least.

He then inspected his newest wound. It was bleeding considerably, staining already dirty shirt further.

He turned to Encel. "Did you have more of those potions by any chance?"

"Yes, just a moment!"

His companion digged up another small vial from his pockets, and Neraon quickly downed the liquid. Knowing the effects would come soon enough, he did not stand around waiting for them, wanting to get moving as quickly as possible.

Not too far into the tunnel, they run into dead Gnome. It was such a stark display of the brute violence the attackers were raining on their targets; the corpse was nailed on the side of the cave with a sword that might as well have been as long as they were tall, hanging limply so high up that their head was above Neraon's. Blood was still dripping from the wound, trailing down the blade that had impaled the torso of the Gnome.

Neraon had to force himself to not look at the face of the victim, instead rushing past the scene and forward, to the sound of rushing water that thankfully covered the sounds of red droplets hitting the tunnel floor.  

The path twisted at a narrow, steep passage that circled around a small pool of water. a small stream poured in from a hole on the side of the wall, the movement stirring up a small cloud of mist. The damp floor made for uncertain foothold, forcing the duo to watch their steps as they climbed up to more even ground. 

As the pathway straightened ahead them, Neraon saw the next Tuatha in their way. Crouching over a corpse they seemed to be inspecting for items of value, unaware of the enemies lurking in the passage behind them.

"See if you can sneak up on that one", Encel whispered from his side. "There's no doubt more up ahead, and it'll be easier to take them out quickly and quietly."

Neraon simply nodded, having thought of the same, and started moving carefully forwards, as light on his feet as he could manage.

The Tuatha did not seem to notice his approach at all; be it because he was noticeable or because they were confident or distracted enough to not pay attention, Neraon soon got close enough. He held his breath as he got himself to a steady stance behind the Tuatha; dagger hovering just behind their back, ready to dart over their shoulder and cut into the throat.

A cold sweat formed on Neraon's scalp. He had absolutely done this before.

Before he would have the chance to think it any further, he struck the dagger forward and around into the neck, using his free hand to grab the Tuatha from behind to prevent them from falling.

He was a surprised by how easily the blade sunk into the flesh underneath. After having struggled with the rusty sword, getting the first hand experience of an actually sharp weapon was a bit of a shock.

He held onto the body — dagger still buried deep and blood dripping over his fingers — as the Tuatha gasped for air, failing to as much as make a sound. Neraon realized right off the bat that he had blocked their trachea, and waited until until the feeble attempts ceased. He then carefully set the body down, now pulling now dagger away.

He quickly brushed the weapon and his hand off most the blood on the hem of his shirt, not wanting for it to hinder his grip. He tried not to pay mind to the concerned voice in the back of his mind that said he should not have been as calm as he was, and started moving forward again.

There were two more Tuatha ahead, standing at a ledge that seemed to give into a larger cavern ahead, shooting at targets Neraon could not see.

He could hear them, though.

As quickly as he dared he snuck forward, mentally debating which archer to take out first. Either way, the other one would attack him immediately.

Only a few more steps. 

He saw the one on the right lower their hand to pick up another arrow from the quiver on their hip. Only, the quiver was empty.

Neraon made his decision, and rushed to cut down the left one as they were about to fire. He swung the dagger up from under their raised arm, ignoring the relatively exposed armpit and deciding the bare neck was a better target.

His aim was not as on point as before, but the Tuatha gurgled and dropped their weapon, stumbling before they collapsed down, coughing for blood as they struggled to breathe.

Neraon got only a glimpse of what was going on lower down in the cave the opening in the side of the tunnel gave to, but had no time for it as the second archer was about to smack him with their bow.

He jumped back, barely avoiding the strike, but getting uncomfortably close to the wall behind him.

Neraon almost jumped in surprise when out of the blue, a small rock came hurling in and hit the Tuatha to their head.

They both glanced to their side, and Neraon realized that Encel had just given him an opening. The rock had not been much of a distraction, but it was just enough for him to attack while the Tuatha was preoccupied with scowling at the Gnome they had not realized was there.

Neraon quickly leapt forward, getting close enough that the Tuatha could not properly shield themselves from the attack, and ended up with a blade being stuck up from under their jaw. As the Tuatha slumped down like a ragdoll, Neraon gave Encel a quick nod as acknowledgement and thanks.

There were people still alive down on the platform. He hurriedly took his own bow to shoot down the remaining Tuatha that kept them trapped there.

It was almost absurd how they did not even try to dodge or shield themselves, instead choosing to focus on the Gnomes. Neraon was not fast enough to prevent them from killing one more and injuring another, but as the last of these Tuatha fell down, there were three survivors still.

"Get out of there! They seem to be coming from the lower levels, so keep moving up."

The Gnomes looked up at Neraon with expressions that hovered somewhere between relief, thankfulness, and confusion. Still, they got moving.

Neraon turned around to see Encel waiting for him. Without a word, he simply grabbed his dagger that was still poking from the face of the dead Tuatha, and headed for the part of the tunnel leading forward, knowing his companion would follow. The pathway narrowed before leading to a more refined section, with smooth walls, stairs and all that, that lead up to a larger, open space.

The room lit up as they walked in.

Neraon slowed down to take the sight in. The floor was covered almost all over in plants that emanated an enchanting glow from their blooms. He could see some flowers still opening up, joining the others with their own lights.

"What are these?" he asked, voice barely above whisper as he knelt down to inspect the closest flowers.

"Cave blossoms", he heard Encel say somewhere behind him. "They only respond in the presence of magic. Perhaps there's more to you than it seems?"

_ Magic? _

Neraon touched one flower gently. Its glow seemed to get even stronger. "They reacted to me?" he said, more to himself than Encel. It was odd. One gruesome thing after another had greeted him since he awakened, but here, surrounded by the speckles of light, he could almost forget about it all for a moment.

But he needed to keep moving. As Neraon tore his attention from the blossoms, he realized that from the side of the room, something was staring at his with its many eyes.

"Oh, one of the spiders they caught while clearing the tunnels", Encel mentioned as he walked to Neraon's side. "Guran wanted to try something, apparently their venom had an effect that could be potentially be useful in our research. Or could have been, I suppose."

Neraon walked closer, wanting to take a better look at the creature that was curled up in the corner of its tiny cage. He could not remember, but somehow he had a feeling that this spider was unusually large. Unnaturally so, almost.

There was a note on table by the cage — by the look of it, it had gone untouched for some time. A thin layer of webbing and dust covered it, but Neraon noticed that it had been signed by the same person Encel had just mentioned.

"Wait, is that a staff?"

Neraon spun around as his thoughts were interrupted, finding Encel brushing away dirt and web from something resting against the wall by the cage. A long wooden object, with some kind of crystal embedded at one end. Encel passed it over to him.

"A mage's weapon. You should try if you can make it work!"

Neraon accepted the staff, unsure how to proceed. He assumed the stone had magical properties, but he was not sensing anything. Tentatively, Neraon swung the staff, imaging he was attacking a foe standing in front of him.

The staff did not react.

"I don't think I can use it. Not without having some instructions", he ruminated.  _ Assuming this thing is functional. _

"Well, it was worth a try. But I say don't lose it just yet, just in case."

Neraon agreed. Maybe he would find someone who could make use of the staff, if he could not figure it out himself.

As they left the room, a small hallway led them to yet another tunnel, though this one was was apparently rather seldom used; piles of construction rubble and crates covered the way, making it difficult to move forward when the tunnel got particularly narrow. Neraon and Encel had to slow down and watch their step before the way forward finally looked cleared.

Except for the webs, that only seemed to be getting denser.

"I'm getting a bad feeling", Neraon muttered. "Didn't you say that the tunnels had been cleared?"

"They were, or so I thought..."

Neraon stopped. He could not hear anything from the way forward, but the path was unilluminated save for the glow of those magical flowers growing here and there.

Something moved in the shadows, and that was the only warning before a large spider rushed forward, clearly intent on attacking those that had entered its tunnel.

"No, not this! Guran said the spider problem was dealt with already!" 

Neraon dropped the staff and picked up an arrow. He was just far enough to shoot once, maybe he could get a good shot...

The spider let out an odd, clicking hiss and slowed down as the arrow hit its body with a thud, but it jumped forward, almost tackling Neraon. He backed off, his free hand going for a dagger on his belt.

The arachnid wasted no time before jumped at him again, but this time Neraon knew to expect it. He had his dagger ready — just barely in time — and he drove it between the many eyes glaring at him in animalistic anger.

The spider spasmed and squealed, and Neraon quickly moved away from the fangs that he had gotten all too close a look at. But, it then slumped onto the ground. Neraon gave the creature a poke with his foot just to make sure it was really dead; those legs were twitching in a way he did not like.

Encel huffed. "So much for Guran's  _ expertise  _ helping with the situation."

_ Them again. Encel's mentioned that name a few times now. _

"Who's this Guran anyway?" Neraon asked as he yanked the dagger out of the spider's face.

"He was working with me, at the subject..." — as he glanced at Neraon,  Encel cleared his throat — "disposal. Seemed to like the job even less than anyone else assigned there."

He then fell quiet. "I wonder where he went. I was supposed to meet him just before the Tuatha showed up. I didn't particularly like him, but I hope he's still alive."

Neraon had nothing to say to that. He hoped that this situation would be over already, but reality did not give much of a reason for a positive outlook.

They got moving forward, only to be cut short by a massive web that stretched across the tunnel only a few steps away. And by the looks of it, there was more of the same ahead.

Neraon stepped forward. They had to clear the way somehow; he had not been able to make the staff work, so he might as well try to repurpose it for a cleaning tool. He poked at the web, trying to break it away, but found that it was far sturdier than he had expected. He managed to make a hole into the weave, but the sticky substance wouldn't cede more than that, no matter how hard he tried to wave the staff around.

Neraon tried to pull away, but the staff was stuck.

"How do they even make something like this?" he grunted as placed his hands better on the shaft to apply more force. He made the web twist around, but not much else.

"You should be careful, you don't want to get stuck in it yourself!"

_ Just how much of a pain could one spider web be? _ Neraon thought, his arms twitching at the strain as he stubbornly kept  __ "I know—"

He saw a spark, and before he could react, a flame ignited, causing the webbing to shrivel back with a puff of smoke. The staff came loose, and Neraon stumbled back, trying to regain his balance. The fire was gone as quickly as it came, but there was now a sizeable hole in the web. Not large enough to pass through, but it was progress.

"You did it!"

Neraon shook his head. "Not intentionally, though."

He breathed in deep and stepped closer to the web again, extending the staff forward. He succeeded once; he would do it again.

_ Think. What did it feel like? _

It had been so sudden.

_ Warm. Fire is warm, was it the fire or the magic? Both? _

It was frustrating, knowing that he was capable of wielding the staff but being unable to make it respond.

_ I must have known this in the past. It's somewhere in the back of my mind, waiting to be rediscovered. _

Why did it not work? Neraon frowned as the staff remained unresponsive.

_ I know this. I know I do. _

Nothing.

"Come on!"

To hell with the magic; he was going to physically beat the web into submission if that was what it took to get forward and out of here.

He only vaguely registered Encel's yelp as he pulled the staff back and whacked at edge the hole in the web.

His attention was caught by the sparkles that appeared again.

At the moment of contact, the crystal at the end of the staff burst aflame, the fire near engulfing Neraon as it spread explosively before fading down to little more than a candle flame, flickering gently.

"Incredible!"

Neraon was not sure whether to agree with Encel's statement or not. He seemed to pack more magical power than he had hoped to expect, but it came at the cost of being volatile and difficult to control. At least he now had an inkling of how to bring it forth.

There was barely anything left of the spider web that had covered the tunnel; the burst had completely destroyed it, and even burned some of the cave blossoms on the ground, as evident from the cindering flowers.

"Stay a bit further back from here on", Neraon said to Encel as he watched the flame dim and go out. "I don't want to accidentally burn you it the fire lashes out like that again."

He did not have good feeling of the look of the tunnel ahead; he could make out the shapes of more webbing, and while a single spider could have been the culprit, Encel had mentioned there having been many enough for them to be a problem.

And he was right. As soon as he set foot into a part of the tunnel with noticeable notches and cavities, a group of the arachnids emerged from their hides, irked at the disturbance in their home.

Neraon readied the staff, watching the spiders and waiting for one to get closer. They skittered around him, surrounding him in a half-circle. And then one leapt forward.

This time, he did not ask for the magic to occur. He imagined the staff was an extension of his arms as he swung toward the spider's face, imagined the energy that would erupt as it reached the crystal focus.

Imagined the heat that burned the spider.

And it did; the creature screeched as its sensitive eyes were suddenly exposed to the bright, hungry flames eager to consume the flesh in their path. Neraon almost yelled in delight as the weapon finally heed to his intentions, less or more.

The magic was not an outside force like he had first expected — it came from  _ him _ , and the way to wield it was to will it to work. He had a long way to go to perfect his control of it, but this was a start.

He stepped forward, poking at the blinded spider again to make it back off before going for the next one that was trying to sneak up on him from the side. That one was too sent retreating as a burst of fire was hurled to its face. Neraon forced the spider back, trapping it against the wall,  presing the point of the staff against it and burning its midsection until the exoskeleton gave in under the pressure. Not the most efficient or stylish way to go about it, but the spider was done for.

He then felt something bite his ankle, realizing that he had not been paying enough attention to the last of the three.

Neraon jumped back, whacking at the sneaky creature to shoo it away and get some distance. His leg did not feel too bad, so with any luck the shaft of his boot had protected him from the spider's fangs.

He received a hiss in protest as he started properly attacking the spider, but eventually he had it cornered, and it met its end the same way as the one before.

"You did such quick work of them! Makes me wish we had had you around to help earlier", Encel said to Neraon in awe as he glanced over the dead arachnids. "But let us keep moving! We should be getting close to Hugues' study."

Further in, there were more spiders. But Neraon had gotten the hang of dealing with them. It felt almost like he was dancing; he twirled around quick on his feet to avoid most of the group while letting the flames feed on those that got too close. Compared to the struggles of his first fights since his awakening, he had to put in relatively little effort. His flames may have been haphazard, but their strength undeniable.

The smell of burn flesh was foul, and the heat had Neraon sweating, but one by one, the spiders stopped attacking — being too badly burned to move or bother, or straight up dying.

As they moved onward, the cold blue glow of the cave blossoms drowned out under the warmer tones of a stronger light from ahead. Neraon mentally prepared himself for trouble, but given Encel's words he dared to hope otherwise.

He turned around the corner, almost running into the Gnome standing there with a blade held up, ready to cut down intruders that would come in this way.

"Die, Tuatha bastard— wait, you're not one of them!" Noticing his companion, the Gnome lowered their weapon. "Encel! You're alive! And who is this?"

"That's what I intend to find out. He came out of the Well!"

"What?" They looked at him eyes wide, then at Encel, as if to make sure he was serious. "Then he'd better get inside to see the old man. Quick, before the Tuatha make another push!"

Encel turned to Neraon. "This is where we part ways, but take whatever you wish from this armory — we might a few things that would fit you. Just make sure you get to Hugues! We can hold off the Tuatha here."

Neraon looked about the room. There were a couple more armed Gnomes on guard, but also many non-combatants. Some were clearly injured. He sure hoped they would manage.

He went for the chests  lined up on the sidewall.  After rummaging through them all, he did find a better shirt and a sturdy vest that would offer passable protection for the time being.

He was glad to get finally rid the tattered, bloody shirt that still carried the smell from the pile of corpses.

As he put on the new pieces, he could hear someone mumble quietly behind him.

_ "I never believed the Well would work. Maybe it would have been best if it never did." _

Neraon could not be sure who had said it. It stuck with him though. Honestly, he wasn't sure what to think about being resurrected. And he could reason that a lot of suffering had come from the existence of the Well, with the Tuatha attacking and all. But hearing someone put it like that, probably without realizing that he could pick it up, made his gut twist uncomfortably.

He kept his composure carefully collected, and pushed the matter out of his mind. He was alive, and there was no point in wondering about the alternate option now.

Checking the last chest, Neraon was glad to find some arm guards, a pair gloves, and a belt with a small pack attached. He quickly put those on as well.

As he was fastening the straps of the guards, he realized it's be a good idea to confirm the way forward now that he was going to be moving alone.

"Where will I find Hugues?"

"He's directly ahead, in his study", Encel said, turning to point at the doorway on the opposite wall. "Just keep going, past the top of the Well. He needs to see you. Right now, you're the most valuable thing in his world."

Neraon was set and ready to go. He stretched around his arms a bit to be sure everything was fit well. Satisfied, he took his equipment and was about to leave when Encel suddenly spoke.

"Wait, one more thing! Here, take these."

Neraon hesitated a moment when Encel held out the remainers of his potions. They would come in useful for sure if he was to run into more Tuatha, but he had a feeling the Gnomes here would be in need of those potions just as much, if not more. Encel's face didn't look like he was going to listen to any buts, though.

"Thank you." He took the potions and put them to his pack.

Time to go.

He wasn't completely sure why he felt so anxious about leaving Encel behind, or meeting Hugues. Or both. He had to fight the urge stay as he walked over to the closed doorway.

"Go see Hugues, we haven't got much time", the guard urged him as he waited for the portcullis to rise.

He looked back at at everyone in the room, and then Encel. The Gnome noticed him, giving him a friendly smile.

"I'll see you on the outside, if Fate wills it."

Neraon wasn't sure what to say, so he simply nodded in acknowledgement before turning and getting moving.

 


End file.
